


Asphodel

by eevee44



Series: Necromancy KOBD [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Assassination, Breakdown has a garden :), Established Relationship, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Murder, Necromancy, Suicidal Thoughts, Very brief and no actual suicide I promise, You've heard of hurt/comfort now get ready for comfort/hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25221376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eevee44/pseuds/eevee44
Summary: (My regrets follow you to the grave)
Relationships: Breakdown/Knock Out
Series: Necromancy KOBD [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827343
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Asphodel

**Author's Note:**

> TW for suicidal thoughts (very brief) and self loathing (not so brief). A prequel to [Undying Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155237) that comes approximately a year late. Once again, all you gotta know is that they're not robots and there's magic.

Knockout was busy grinding some fennel and rosemary in a mortar and pestle. He has a client in town that wants a potion delivered by tonight, which is a pain to have to make and deliver it all the way to the nearest town, but hey, they need cash to eat. Breakdown can only grow so much in that garden of his. 

Honestly though, Breakdown’s garden had done wonders for his little business. Before he’d relied mainly on his magic to heal clients, and that involved people from town coming to his house to be healed. Annoying for both parties, Knockout preferred not to have contagious people inside his house or injured people bleeding all over the carpet (it was such a pain getting blood out of the rugs). But ever since Breakdown discovered his love of gardening, they could earn a living by selling and delivering potions instead. Win-win. 

Knockout chants under his breath, casting some quick magic over the ingredients, then bottles the potion and puts it in his bag. It clinks as he fits the glass bottle among the rest of the potions and various other items to be delivered in town. Knockout hoped to be done with business and back home by sundown. He pushes himself away from the desk he’d been hunched over (for far longer than he’d realised, evidenced by the painful stiffness of his shoulders), standing and stretching before slinging the bag over his shoulder and calling out to his husband. No response. The sun shines through the windows - Breakdown must be outside, taking advantage of the lovely weather. Knockout steps towards the back door, intent on giving his husband a quick kiss goodbye before leaving. He really couldn’t wait around much longer if he wanted to be home before dinner. 

He steps out into the garden. The sun hits him full force, no clouds marring the bright blue sky to stop the rays soaking into his admittedly-pale skin. Breakdown was always complaining that he spent too long indoors, that it wasn’t good for him - maybe he should listen to him for once. He steps out onto the pavestones that lead out to the expansive back gardens. Various flowers bloomed on either side of the path, stray heads pushing their way onto the rock, petals and dirt littering it. The entire backyard, and even some of the front, was filled with a menagerie of different plants and flowers, weaving a tapestry of colours that left little room to navigate. The former soldier claimed he needed something to do all day while Knockout was working, else he’d drive himself crazy, and this result was his pride and joy. It was a good outlet. Knockout would find him out here most days, knees in the dirt and clothing filthy, planting some new seeds Knockout had picked up in town or watering his flowers with care. The gardening had started as a manner of self-sufficiency, growing practical fruits and vegetables for them to eat so Knockout wouldn’t have to rely on the nearby town for food, but over the years it had bloomed into something much greater. 

That’s strange, normally he could hear Breakdown humming some mindless tune as he tended his gardens. Maybe he went out further back, into the woods bordering their property?

“Breakdown?” Knockout calls out as he steps further away from the house, and recoils as he unexpectedly steps on something. He looks down to see what he’d…

No. _NO_. 

Unmistakably his husband, facedown on the ground. His arm outstretched, trodden on. _No response_.

Knockout feels fear lance through his chest, but he squashes it down. _Now is not the time to panic. Remember your training_.

The still warm flesh had yielded. No response to stimuli. With some difficulty, he flips the body over onto its back.

_Oh Primus no_. He instinctively goes to place his hand on the neck to check the pulse, but what he sees shakes him out of his routine actions. Through the right eye ( ~~HIS HUSBAND’S EYE~~ ), where his eye should be was a small dart embedded into the socket. Slight blood crusted around it. He must not have noticed the blood that had pooled under the skull upon first examination. _It’s in too deep_. Hands shaking, he steels himself and continues his search for the pulse. He can’t lose focus and panic. Remember protocol, a life depends on it. _You used to be so good at this_. No pulse. He doesn’t have time to check for breathing, he knows what he would find, he couldn’t, he can’t take this—

 _SNAP OUT OF IT, you don’t have time_. He cradles the head and examines the eye further, shoving down the urge to throw up. As he feared, the dart is buried deep into the tissue. He can’t pull it out without further damage. But there’s something strange mixed in with the blood crusted around the socket. A tinge of green? Some other fluid had mixed with the blood. He quickly scans the area. BD hadn’t been holding or drinking anything. It must’ve come from the dart. _Poison???_ His mind starts panicking. He’s losing it, he’s losing his focus and if he loses focus he loses _him_ , loses the love of his life the reason he’s here at all _please Primus no don’t do this to me_. He can’t stop the tears running down his cheeks. He only dully realises now that he should’ve checked for signs of an intruder or enemies as soon as he saw the dart. Holding the body in his arms he whips around, surveying the area, but he has trouble seeing through the tears. He goes to wipe them away but _don’t mix foreign agents on your hands into your eyes idiot. God, what a pathetic excuse for a doctor you turned out to be_. Shakily, he exhales a breath. That could’ve killed him. If it had, maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad. Dying here, alongside Breakd— 

_NO. You can’t give up on him. You can still fix this. You’re not a pathetic doctor, he thought you were brilliant, and he is everything to you and you trust him above all else, so do your damn job and fix him_. 

Fix him. How? The blood is crusted on him - he’s been here for a while ( _how long was he ~~rotting~~ out here while you were inside without a care in the world, living seconds minutes hours of your life without him?_). He shakes his head. _You can fix this you’re not pathetic you can DO SOMETHING._

His bag. Knockout quickly fumbles with the latch on his bag, still slung around his shoulder. He frantically rifles through it, pulling out a potion. A healing concoction, but no that won’t work. He needs an antidote, he needs a — 

_Can’t cure someone who’s already dead idiot. First rule of medical school_. 

He looks around desperately. Breakdown’s garden. He’s in a garden full of ingredients, if he can just find something to act on the poison (he recognises the dart with a sick jerk of his stomach. Her signature weapon, tipped with deadly spider venom), he just needs to, if he can just find…

He runs his eyes through the garden, bright colours mashing and blurring together in a cruel cacophony. Poppies, bloodroot, asphodel, chrysanthemums…

His lips tremble as he’s wracked with sobs, creeping up through his throat and erupting out. He can’t, he can’t do this. He’s ~~dead~~. He clutches the body close and tries not to wail, to not alert the assassin, but he knows that if she truly wanted to kill him she would’ve already. No, this was to send a message. This was revenge. 

He died here, among his flowers, those which he loved and tended to. Those which outlived him. He holds him close but he can’t bear to look at the body, so instead he looks at the flowers as he weeps. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s knelt there. Eventually he ran out of tears, and is just numb. He stopped feeling the body in his arms, just staring into space. _You’ve gone into shock_ , says some distant part of his mind, but he pays it no heed. He’s just staring. There’s this one beautiful black flower that he can’t take his eyes off. The petals entrance his numb mind, barely able to comprehend them. _Deathsbane, poppy family. Unsuitable as a potion ingredient, as it’s only known to_ … to what again? It feels important, but that voice is so fuzzy. Is to… is to…

Suddenly, his mind sharpens again. _Is known in folklore to have unholy supernatural properties, and is rumoured to have been a key ingredient in various forbidden arts, such as reviving the dead_. He looks at the potion in his bag. He looks up at the flower, its many-stamened eyes staring right at him.

He knows what he has to do. He can fix this. He can make this right. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please come talk to me about big robots at [acetrainerjess](http://acetrainerjess.tumblr.com) on tumblr, and if you leave a comment know that I love you forever


End file.
